Wish
by Maxwell Lily
Summary: Starts in episode 4. Wang So's feelings after he killed the monks and fails to win his mother's grace, discovering, instead, the force inside the small body of the girl named Hae Soo. A tale of the heart, how it adapts and changes and the feelings that grow with time.
1. Wish

Was every stone a wish? Or was the wish the core of the act, ever-present in every movement, in every little step, stone after stone, a smile on the lips and love in the heart of the mothers who prayed for their children?

Wang So hated it all. Hated the mothers, their wishes, and the blood that dripped from him. Hated, above all, himself, the things he had gone through, the things he had done and all the things he would still do. There was death in him, death that followed. Death that would always follow. Her words ringed in his ear, loud, repeating themselves over and over and over in deafening cacophony. _You're like an animal. You make my skin crawl._

Animals suffered too, he knew. He had killed them before, had witnessed the pain in their eyes. Why couldn't his mother see his? She could barely look at him. _You are my shame, disgrace and flaw._ He could feel himself trembling with every repressed cry in his body. How unfitting for a prince, how very fitting for a lowly replacement for a dead son.

Even the stones matched and amounted to something. Carefully arranged, neatly, by fragile hands which could only pray. But his mother had blood in hers and he was glad for it. Glad that no matter how high she would be, she was drenched in blood, blood of her own making and blood of _his_ making. He laughed to himself at the idea but it was quickly replaced by another, a different one that was even more painful than his wound. An idea, a concept so fragile. Just one hand, taking his.

It all battled inside of him. Every lie he told himself, every stone and every feeling, they all mocked him and his foolish ambitions and with a cry he lashed out. If he were to be an animal, so be it. If he were to become death, so be it. He thrashed around and it all came down. He crumbled down, a mosaic of horror and memories.

He feels hands pulling him back. Weak hands, hands he could so easily overpower, he had overpowered wolves and assassins, what force could possibly hold him back? He laughs at her shock, at her sheltered life and at everything she meant. He curses her beliefs and her prayers, curses and curses, everything pours out like merciless rain. He knows he's crying, knows how pathetic it all is, but he can't stop once he's started, it's not right, _nothing is right_.

He doesn't expect her to talk to him. Doesn't expect her concern.

Was it concern? In her eyes? He doesn't know this girl, this foolish girl who knew nothing about what life he led. This foolish girl who wasn't recoiling, _go, you must go_ , _I could kill you with a single movement,_ she's looking straight into his eyes and she's speaking. She speaks as though she knows, but she really doesn't, probably never will, _can't_ understand what he went through in Shinju or every hateful word he's ever heard.

But he was wrong. There's a force in her. There's a force in her eyes, and even in her tears. _It's not a crime to want to live,_ she repeats herself, as though to emphasize, to show her own truth. He doesn't know if it's because it's all he ever wanted to hear or if the words themselves carry a weight that robs him of his strength. Worst of all, he _believes_ her, helplessly believes her every word. She leaves and he's left with the aftermath, the destruction he once again brought. There are new words ringing in his ears now, _I understand you._ He falls to his knees and wants to yell that she doesn't but can't. Her words are like water to a dying man, and what was he, if not a dying man? A grim reaper who only promised death. But this water doesn't taste so bitter.

It doesn't taste bitter at all.

She lingers in his presence and he doesn't understand why. She's so awfully unfit for anything remotely courteous, banal tasks, like she can be wise beyond her years but so immature at the same time, but he can't look away. Even if he tries, it's like she's always there. _Go, you must go._ She never does. He discovers openings he never knew he had; she forces through them all, effortlessly. He doesn't understand, her, himself. Finds himself reaching out for her.

He can't look away when he sees it in her eyes, that force. When she faces Yeon Hwa like a warrior. She doesn't cry out when she's hit, this woman who doesn't run away from him. This woman who can _relate_ to him _._ She once asked about his wounds and he can't watch as she's wounded, he takes a bold step, he intervenes. _You can't take her away from me_ is a thought that consumes him. No, not until he has figured her out. Put the stones of her behavior in their correct places.

When she tells him she's not afraid of him anymore, he wonders if it's about that night. Wonders what it is that she saw in him. He only knows what he sees in her. A spirit that is not tempered down by palace etiquette. She's like a female wolf who fights for herself, who fights back. Even if she's so small that he has to bend down to lock eyes with her — the only time she looks away —, this is who she is. He thinks, anyway. He's never really known anyone or anything other than his own expectations and she exceeds them by miles.

It will still be a long time until he has figured it all out, this girl, these feelings, the path it all leads to. It'll still be some time until he hears that she _doesn't feel alone when he's around_ , which meets so perfectly with what he feels that he doesn't know how to react. Doesn't know why it hurts in ways that had never hurt before.

At this moment, just at this moment, when he puts stone upon stone to make up for the wishes he threw away, he only knows that he likes it best when she smiles, and the way that she never leaves.

 _What did you wish for?_

It almost makes everything okay.

 _Love. It was love._


	2. On Love, Pt I

_Anyone but you._

It takes him time to notice. Moments, touches, thoughts.

He's lived years of somebody else's life, being somebody else's son, living on borrowed time. He should have died, more than once, but persisted, set a goal. It's so minimum at the beginning, a simple wish, _I don't want to die._ Later on, it takes a better shape, he sees it in the shadows formed under the tree he set on fire himself. _I want to live._ When he's invited to the palace, the place he should never have left, it shifts again. The fire is now inside of him, inside his heart. _I want to live here. I want to be here._ Wants to take back his place, his character. The seat meant for him. He's not quite sure what it is yet. The general tells him that there's only one seat in Songak, but even the insinuation is a bad joke. A scorn. He sets to observe. To aide. He's a shadow with a sword in one hand, the other reaching for backs that stayed turned to him.

In Songak he has a goal. He has a goal and he's set on fulfilling this role, the role of prince, the role of a loyal servant, so why? Why does it all go blurry the moment she appears?

As the days pass, he discovers her freedom is important to him. The safety of her spirit. The way she smiles at him and tells him that she'll try and find a way out of a marriage with the king himself. Later, when he touches her wrist and thinks of the scar there, it's heavy on his chest; the scar, the implications, the blood she shed. She drives him crazy, stupid girl who doesn't think before she acts, who smiles at punishments as though she's safe, who dismisses his words with comfort for _him._ She speaks of his company in the same voice that wished him good dreams and for the first time he feels he's not a bad omen.

She seems to enjoy his company, to enjoy being by his side. She listens. And he wants to talk. Wants to talk even about things he's never wanted to talk with anybody else. _Shinju._ She reminds him of Shinju but in contrast, the man he were and the man he wants to be. Then and now. The suffering he couldn't avoid and the one he can. The one he wants to avoid. Hers. He wants her to do well, to feel well. To not have bad dreams.

And it clashes with his goals. He _wanted_ to spirit her away before the king could touch her. He vowed to be nothing but a servant but he doesn't serve, not when it comes to her. He wants to be more than a wolf but he still growls. Still shows his teeth. Her life is important, he tells her this, looks into her eyes. His life was important but not as important as hers. Her force is strong enough to pull Mu, the crown prince, in. She impressed the _king_. It should be reckoned, protected.

It takes him time. Moments of witnessing her courage, her honesty, the way she looked away when she was embarrassed. Touches, him holding her so she wouldn't fall off his horse. Thoughts of a world without her in it. It starts, the feeling, becomes stronger than the sense of belonging when he's around his brothers, stronger than the affection he grows for Baek Ah. Whenever he feels like the palace is his home, something throws him off, a game of words he doesn't want to play, not with Yo, not with his mother, not with Yeon Hwa. He feels like he's being pushed away and he doesn't want her to be pushed like that. Doesn't want her in any game of power. Doesn't want her to get hurt.

It's when she sings about loneliness that he notices, that he sees the connection; his feelings and hers. Feels more than he sees. Every word and every moment they shared strike him like lightning bolt. The tears and the smiles and comfort meant for _him_. The touch on his arm and the concern for his wounds. The words _I can relate to you_. He who has only had nothing.

Is it okay to want?

A light cherished by almost everyone he knew. Who was he to claim it for his own? What right did he have, with tainted hands and a cursed face, how could he want it? Yet, she was there. She existed. She accepted, his words, his presence. _I want someone who will treasure me._ He barely gave it thought before Yeon Hwa brought it up but it was too tempting now, too strong. _I want you to treasure me._ It shifted. It always shifted, as time always moved forward.

He looks for her when he enters the room. Looks for her eyes. For her smile. It's bright, a sunlight, and he's compelled to smile back. Has to force himself to look away, to listen to other people. Yo talks and that should have tipped him off but it doesn't, he's still inebriated in the realization, the new thought that he didn't know if he wanted to set as goal yet. When she talks about him, it elevates him. He dares thinking about _trust,_ dares thinking she might be even proud of him, of knowing him. Without even knowing, he trusts her with a heart that is fragile to the touch.

Unaware, she lets it slip through her fingers.

When he takes off his mask, every head in the room looks away but hers. Her eyes never falter, not once. He watches her brows furrow together, he looks away, her eyes are too big and too much, but when he looks back, she's still there. He can't will her away. Can't will the _pity_ away.

 _Anyone but you._

She's a part of it now. A part of the game. The one that pushes him away. There were so many things about her that set her apart, her drawings, her need to be recognized with minimum effort. So many things about her weren't a part of Goryeo, weren't part of anything he knew until that moment. Then she knew, everything, she could see every flaw that had been carefully locked away and she didn't look away and it confused him. He didn't know what to expect.

 _I want you to treasure me._

He just knew it was supposed to be different.


	3. Invincible

The tower he so carefully built collapses under the force of his own foolishness.

As if her touch could make him invincible, he believed. Believed in a better version of himself, one that wasn't rejected, shunned or beaten by words and stones. However, it couldn't really change anything in the end. He couldn't unite his brothers, couldn't change his mother's heart. He was no more invincible than yesterday, less, even, for his hope had been their weapon. Ji Mong spoke so much about the future in the stars, sometimes he wished he could see, too. He wished he could believe it. He wished he could foresee their next move so he would be prepared, so he wouldn't be caught off guard like their prey. It was so easy to be his father's piece, to be Mu's shield, but he couldn't bear to think about being the sword that pierced through Mu's heart. His mother never ceased to mock him, to soil him with blood. She acted like she knew him, spoke of him as a boy as if it could bring them back in time, but no one could turn back time.

 _You threw me away, mother._

 _I will not leave._

He wants to take away her object of desire. What would she do then? If he took her precious throne from her? If he ascended? How would she look then? With what eyes would she look upon him?

He remembers the people who no longer ran way when he passed by. Who didn't hide, who didn't hate. Remembers the sky pouring down on him, a grace, almost making him believe that the heavens really had a will. But if heavens had a will, wouldn't they be kinder? Why give one moment of comfort then take it away? It was never the heaven's will, the good, the bad. It was people. The expectations they built. The expectation he built. So easy to break like the stones he once thrashed. How was he to live, in the end? For his own disappointment or for his mother's spite?

 _I wasn't born because I wanted to be. I'm the one who determines how I'll live._

Or perhaps...

His feet take him to the Damiwon Palace at his heart's behest. She had taken the scar away from him, wiped the pity away from his fears with as much ease as the stroke of her brush, replacing it with an understanding of unknown origin, almost as if she had known the pain of giving up on the world and had risen above it. She was too young, too inexperienced, but he could see it when she looked away, the pain beneath the surface of her bravado, the fragments of a story that made her wise. Naïve. Bright. The bearer of all his trust

But he doesn't have the courage to call for her, not when she was trying so hard to fit in, to ease the fire inside of her. He misses it, so dearly, the retorts and scoffs and complaining, but if it means she can live better, she can live with _him_ in the palace, then he accepts it. She has been awkward and distant lately but he, too, wasn't the same person he used to be. No one was, under the strict gaze of the palace walls. So he lets himself walk away, heart yearning for her, her words still repeating in his mind like a lullaby.

When he sees her, it's unexpected and a weight off his chest. He remembers how she touched his face without holding back and he throws caution to the night, reaching out, embracing her. She's scared but he attributes it to her new reservation, to her new status, and he cares for neither.

"Just for a moment, stay with me. I need to rest." He pleads, he prays.

Nothing gave him peace like her, the one he couldn't avoid even when he wanted to. He would fight his mother in her name, he would fight anyone in her name, and in her presence, he would rest. He knew no other way for his heart to calm. He dreamed about her smile in the rain. The smile meant for him. The shared happiness, just like the shared sadness, the shared pain. _There'll never be anyone like you, Hae Soo. You're the only one. There's no one else for me._

She breaks from his embrace and pushes him away. There's something he has never seen in her eyes, and when she speaks, he falters. They share something else then. They share fear.

"You'll ruin everyone in the end! Go, you're better off far away!"

 _No._

Not when he was starting to feel like a man, not when he was starting to belong. The pieces had fallen in place, so why were they suddenly scattered, as if his mother had found in her fancy to play with them, to destroy them, to set them on fire. It _was_ fire in his chest, when he spoke to her. _Don't push me away. Don't leave me. Don't tell me that I bring misfortune and that I'm an animal._ She's the one who understands, who lectures him about eating well and keeping his anger at bay, who said he wouldn't be hurt anymore and that he'd be treasured. The one who cares. The one who chased the bad dreams away.

 _There's no one else for me._

 _You cannot die. You cannot leave._

"You are completely my person."

 _I will not leave._

He wants to show her his unfaltering heart. Wants to take the poison away from her lips, however it had gotten in. Wants to give her all that she gave to him, give back, give more. They had promised trust and he had promised not to let her go. She should have understood. She always understands.

But she's trembling and crying and pushing him away and he feels that he has failed.

There is no shared love.

 _Don't tell me that I bring misfortune and that I'm an animal._

There is no rest for him that night, and he won't rest until her heart is back in place, until her worries melt away and bring her back to him. He spirits her away, like he had wanted before, like he so intimately desired before. She's a bit more like herself then, when her eyes shine with the sea. She speaks of his heart, speaks of his happiness and he makes his decision. He gives it to her, a heart that was stronger because of her, and he has no regrets. There are already so many things he regrets, but not love.

 _Perhaps I can live for our happiness._

"You can throw it away if you want to."

It made him invincible.


	4. On Love, Pt II

_He would  
be the air in her lungs keeping her from drowning._

He says the words she wanted to hear the most and it scares her. It scares her when she looks into his eyes and knows he's telling the truth, he's only ever been the truth, from the sword ready to kill her to the trust on his lips as deep as the scar on his skin. It scares her, the one who lost so much, to think about him losing his wings to the sun. One year he was gone, and still so much more he was willing to do, she was tired, so tired, of losing, of hurting, of Goryeo.

Court Lady Oh had told her that he learned how to care from her but it was not the truth, he had known before, he had been kind and she could only ever pay him in kind. When she sees his mask after so long her chest hurts because _it's not fair_ , it had never been fair, for him to suffer and live a life in a prison of someone else's making. Even with the visions and the burden of his feelings and the nightmares where the palace was dark and full of corpses. _I would do it all over again._ Because it wasn't fair. Because he was kind.

 _He would  
be the fire on the candle keeping her from freezing._

She wants his happiness. A conscious counter-attack on time, a disbelief that such a heart could ever hurt the family he sought. It was a lie, it had to be a lie, but how powerless she was, in her insignificance to the king, in her malignant presence that caused people to die or leave. She can't blame Wook, not really, not at all, for the absence, even if it hurts so badly that she craves his laugh and his warmth when her wounds hurt too much for her to sleep. He has to stay away, everyone has to stay away, there was nothing she could do, the palace was far too big, far too much for her to change on her own, so how could she impose herself, how could she save them all, how could she...

 _Save him._

She draws the fourth prince's face when all the other girls are gone, the face they wanted to see, and it's nothing like they taunt it is; the darkness fascinates them, the wolf dog, but it's not what she sees or what she draws. She draws the look in his eyes beneath the touch of her hand, the eyes that never seemed to blink, seeing the Go Ha Jin peeking through from Hae Soo's robes, seeing her clearly. She remembers walking by his side and being acquainted with the palace and the lake and feeling safe in his friendship and his taunting and his eyes, the ones she draws, mask and all. She remembers the loneliness on his back and the dirt on his clothes and how she couldn't leave him alone, how he made her think about trust again. She remembers how happy and scared he seemed to be home, and how he never reminded her of any of the princes, of the palace, allowing her to forget the decorum that was so demanded of her. It was so easy with him after a while, and so hard before he was gone.

 _It's worry,_ she tells herself, _I can't stop worrying about him._ It's worry that won't leave her mind when she sleeps next to the other maids, it's grief and her mother in white, her head held high before death; it's her mother's footsteps in the snow, already covered by the storm of time; it's the mother she left behind. It's every loss that passed and every loss that will come to pass and she's conflicted between wanting to die in Goryeo and wanting to live and keep them all safe. _It's worry,_ she thinks, of his smile in the rain, the one that turned into Gwangjong. She wants to change his life, she wants to be out of his life. She wonders if she would be missed if she were gone, if history would remember her. She would miss everyone so much.

"I missed you."

The words come so easily to him, as if he had heard her, the voice she didn't want to hear, the shameless part of her that reached out to people despite the warnings and the teachings her mothers tried so hard to pass, but how could she not reach out when she wanted so bad to live? She wouldn't act on that part, no, not again, she had learned her lesson, she knew it was wrong to meddle, to get involved, lest they get hurt because of her or ruined because of her, but when Jung visited, she was glad. When Baek Ah played her a song, she was happy. When Wook said he missed her, she believed him.

When Wang So embraced her, she couldn't move away. It was just a moment, a fragment of seconds. Her chest was heavier than the pain in her leg. She let him hold her hand, she let him smile at her. He called her beautiful. She has to send him away, he's so willing, so fragile before the king, everyone is, his future so uncertain, so red, and still...

The man who is the sea and the wind on her face, who stole her and claimed her without asking for permission, creeping into her heart before either of them had noticed they were close. The man who never feels sorry, not for his words or for his feelings or the way he makes her heart beat faster when his words are honest and straight as arrows. The man who repents, who tries harder, tries better. The man who is the rain in the time of drought and hope and destruction and blood. Choi Ji Mong talks about fate and luck and the stars, but did he see what she saw? Could he ignore it?

How?

She's scared. Of the future, of living, of dying, of losing.

 _He would  
ruin himself for her._

She's scared of herself and the way she hurt him and the way it made her want to comfort him. So she lies.

So she lies.

" _The person I want to avoid the most is you."_


	5. Friends With Flowers

The flowers are her home. They're her shelter in the whole, wide palace. Of all places, of all corners, of every room in the Damiwon, she chooses that garden, that spot. The water pot is heavy but she doesn't mind it; this time, she waters every petal and every shade of green with the grace of a _sanggung_. It's not her job to do anymore; Chae Ryung, her beloved friend, is there now and it's a job for her rank, but Hae Soo chooses, she sneaks out. It's a job and it's a break — it's her escapism. She wears Lady Oh's clothes and it's Lady Oh's hairpin in her hair but she's so out of place, so inadequate, so much _less than_. She loves the king for the person he is, for the kindness she's experienced in the past and that she appreciates again, she'd be an ingrate if she didn't, but she's not. She's not. She has to fake every step with Lady Oh's steps, every movement a shadow of Lady Oh's movements, a memory of lessons she only half-remembers because there were always so many different things Soo was always thinking about then. She should have paid more attention, she should have been diligent. But she didn't, she wasn't, so she tries her hardest. The hardest she's ever tried. _Don't think about running. Stay faithful to what you decided to do._ She carries the words as a prayer, a gift she was given a long time ago. Or was it a long time ago? She has no calendar in her room, her memory functions in events, in festivals, the days slipping through her fingers like water, a threatening future always looming at her from the bottom of the ocean of her blood.

It has been so long since she's felt truly happy.

She limps and she bends her body and talks to the flowers in a whisper. _Sister Go Ha Jin is back today_ , she tells them, the talk of a lunatic, but she has talked to the moon before so it's only appropriate. It's Go Ha Jin who walks around in her _sanggung_ costume, her voice cheerful to the flowers and the trees and the butterflies and the sun. _Stay faithful_ , and she does, if she can draw her strength from that place then she can believe she can make it, too. _It's another beautiful day,_ she tells them, and it is, every day is beautiful and calm and she wishes it could last forever. She dares to dream and in her dreams, there is no bloodshed. All her friends are there and they're smiling at her and at each other and there is no more poison amongst them. They call her name — which one? — and she feels she can tell them everything, every lie she's ever told, everything she's ever feared.

 _It's another beautiful day_ , she tells the flowers, and she's still in Goryeo, she's still an inexperienced _sanggung_. Her knee falters when she bends down and she stands up again. She's been in Goryeo for years, yes, she knows that much, and she has survived. Instead of dreams, she should focus on tomorrow. A single tomorrow, a single day. _Try your best again today, Go Ha Jin_ , that's what she tells herself when she wakes up, and that's how she keeps her back straight, Lady Oh guiding her every movement from behind her. Although she remembers very little of her lessons, she remembers to be careful. She remembers to keep her place. And she becomes a little more like her with every passing day, even if she doesn't notice it.

Maybe it's worse to dream. Dreaming means having to wake up. Is that why she loses track of time? Because dream and reality strike her in different frequencies of her perception, and she doesn't know if she wants to remain hopeful or to root herself to the prison that is the palace, preparing for every twist and turn that is thrown at her?

She sighs. She has a headache again. On certain days, she eats as little as her teacher used to, always because she brings it upon herself. _Always, always using my head too much._

Go Ha Jin — Hae Soo, she's Hae Soo — halts. There is a shadow amongst her plants, her friends, napping under the sun like a lazy cat. She's quick enough to spot him before she waters him. He doesn't move when she gets close, neither when she sits down next to him. He's usually so guarded and ready into action that Soo is surprised he looks so vulnerable, his hands resting on his middle, his legs outstretched and relaxed. She wonders if he'd leap at her if she touched him, but she doesn't. She doesn't even brush his bangs out of his eyes. How much had he been working with the king lately, so much that she barely sees him? For all her caution, Soo still doesn't know where the royals are taking her. She hears very little about clans and soldiers. She wants to know and desperately doesn't, at the same time. And at the center of her turmoil, there is always Wang So.

For the first time in a long time, she wishes she had her phone. She wishes she could draw on his face with a marker or a lipstick and take pictures so they could laugh together later. She wishes she could capture his serenity, the moment all fight and teasing are stripped down from him so she could look at it when she caught herself thinking of him, of his lashes when he stands close. Soo lies down next to him, not making a sound, barely even breathing, and she thinks of a world without war, thinks of her own, imperfect world where so many things were wrong but where she could sleep with a clear mind and love with an honest heart. Why did she have to travel so far to meet the people who mattered the most?

Her hand clenches at the thought of love, grasping at the grass beneath the two of them. She thinks it's not fair that she sees him like this when in her mind she still sees him with sword full of his brother's blood. She wants to tell him all, to tell him everything, but she doesn't know if she's causing it all to happen or not. Fate or Destiny, Hae Soo? Were you fated to do this or is this an inescapable destiny? Choi Ji Mong tells her nothing and it tears her apart.

She trembles, maybe from the chilly wind that passes by, maybe from the worry that consumes her. She doesn't have her phone, she's not in Seoul and she's Hae Soo, not Go Ha Jin. Beside her, the fourth prince sleeps, or maybe he doesn't, maybe he's just enjoying her presence. Watching him, her desire to cry slowly, slowly fades away, seconds precious like the time she let pass by her never was. She's scared of what he can do but she doesn't want to go.

She doesn't want to go.

The space between them is close enough to draw a line. Her hand is hesitant before her eyes, reaching out, reaching out, fingertips that remembered the touch of a scar. _I'm yours,_ he had said, and she never forgot it, the way he had closed his eyes, the wolf at her feet, at her reach. She's disarmed with every smile and above all, she's disarmed when he looks the least of what she expects, when he looks exactly as he does then, no worry in his brows, no anger at the corners of his mouth.

 _He's beautiful._

She gives him a name in her heart, just as she did with all the flowers in the garden, and she's afraid he's growing inside of her.

 _He already did._

Fate or Destiny, Hae Soo?

Can the heart make a distinction at all?


End file.
